


you're a restless dream (to me)

by driedupwishes



Series: how to build a family out of bits and pieces [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 19:56:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2785763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/driedupwishes/pseuds/driedupwishes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His cousin Frodo had been sent to bed early, he could hear his Uncle Bilbo and Uncle Thorin upstairs in the kitchen, and he knew that his brother Fili was sprawled asleep on the floor, which meant that the person asleep on his back could only be Tauriel. He buried his nose in the crook of his shoulder and wished he were still dreaming, because at least in a dream he might have had a chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're a restless dream (to me)

Kili woke up with his fae squished against the couch cushions slowly, warm and stiff and sluggish, like a cat curled in the very corner of a sunlit windowsill. He tried to stretch and found he couldn’t, trapped under the weight of another warm body atop his own. Their weight pressed him into the old couch cushions and even when he craned his neck he couldn’t see them. He blinked for a few seconds, baffled, only to realize that he couldn’t see the person on top of him because there was a blanket on his head. He groaned and briefly buried his nose back into his elbow, too tired to deal with anything but breathing right at that moment.

Eventually Kili pulled his head back and twisted around one of his arms, trying to grasp at the blanket with numb fingers. The arm that had been slung over the couch arm was tingly and numb, meaning it took several tries to properly grip the blanket over his head and pull it off. It dropped heavily onto the floor next to the couch, emitting a small human sounding groan as it did. Kili stared blankly into the semi-darkness of the basement at the sound, confused about the fact that the blanket had made a noise. But then his memories of the previous night crept back in, along with the feeling in his left arm, and he was left with a pool of hot dread uncurling slowly from his gut.

Carefully he shifted so that his left arm was propping up his shoulders. The person curled atop his lower body shifted against him and made a small noise of protest at his movement, but he ignored them as best he could. He peeked over the edge of the couch and found his brother, Fili, sprawled across the concrete floor as if it was really a king sized downy feather bed. The blanket Kili had pushed off his own head had fallen over his brother’s shoulders and head, leaving only his blond hair visible from underneath the scratchy green woolen afghan. 

Kili drew back so that he could rest his forehead against the couch’s arm and breathed deeply through his nose. The person on his back shifted, dug their fingers into his sides as they wiggled around, their hips pressing against the back of his thighs as their legs drew closer to their body and then extended again. He didn’t know what time it was, because the basement had no clocks or windows, but he could just barely hear the sound of his uncle’s strange Celtic music playing from the kitchen upstairs. He didn’t hear any thumping or loud bouts of grumbling, which meant it was still early enough that no one was being woken up for breakfast. Kili took one last deep breath and got both of his arms underneath him, twisting his shoulders around so that he could catch a glimpse at the person using him as a human body pillow.

He wasn’t surprised, but the sight still knocked his breath away. Her legs were tangled with his, both of their legs a mess of hitched up sleep pants and pale skin. Her sleep pants were really Fili’s, a pair of his old sweatpants from when he was on the high school track team, all grey and worn soft. She was wearing one of Fili’s sweatshirt’s too, one from this past year, from when Fili joined his school’s rugby team. He could just barely read the Durinson that was written across the back under the strands of her mused hair, along with Fili’s number, 82, underneath. The sweatshirt was green, the writing in white, and it sat bunched up around the small of her back, twisted by her movements. She was curled around him so that one of her arms was trapped under his chest, still clutching her controller from the night before, while her right arm snaked up so that she could curl her fingers loosely around his t-shirt at the top of his ribcage. Her head was buried just under his shoulder blades, making it impossible to see her face, but her hair was everywhere, tangled and soft where it brushed his arm, gorgeous glowing red even in the dim light of the television they had left on the night before.

Tauriel Wood lay asleep atop him, as peaceful and gorgeous as could be. Most just called her Taura, but she was also known as “that red-head? Check over by the Durison’s place, she’s their boy’s, Fili’s, best friend”. She’d been his brother’s best friend since the age of ten, having met each other in their fourth grade class and found that the other kid with the really weird name was pretty neat and liked playing make-believe about knights and dragons too. Kili almost couldn’t remember there being a time in his life where Tauriel wasn’t running around with his brother, her bright red hair tangled about her shoulders, her lips pulled in a grin that cracked her face in half.

Kili dropped face first into the couch cushion again, burrowed his nose into the crook of his elbow, and wished he was dead. Wasn’t it bad enough that he had been sporting a crush on Tauriel since he was twelve? It wasn’t fair, he thought, fingers curling into fists as he pressed his eyes as tightly closed as he could; he was eighteen years old now and Tauriel still made his knees just as weak as she had when he was twelve, voice cracking, pimples breaking out across his nose, curls sticking straight up in the air no matter how he brushed them. He hated feeling like a pre-teen around her, but the months apart hadn’t changed anything. 

Well known for his dramatic flair as he was, Kili probably would have gone on lying there, pretending to be asleep with all of his heart, for the rest of his life if he could have, but, as he usually was, he was foiled by his uncles. The sounds of the two familiar voices eventually began drifting down from the closed kitchen doors, the music that had been barely reaching his ears changing from a strange mesh of bag-pipes and banjos to the quiet acoustic guitars his blood uncle preferred. Not long after that the kitchen door opened, though it didn’t make a sound. The only reason Kili knew the door was open was because he could suddenly make out the words of the song and see farther than three feet in front of him through the gap between his elbow and the couch cushion. 

“Hey,” Uncle Thorin rasped at them. Mornings made him sound even grumpier than he usually did, which was a stark contrast to the sound of Uncle Bilbo’s mumble-singing in the background. 

“Get up, brats,” his uncle continued roughly. When no one spoke or rushed to storm up the stairs he growled down at them like some kind of angry bear. Uncle Bilbo liked to call Uncle Thorin his “diurnally challenged brute”, which always made his uncle scowl and flush in equal portions. They had been married for ages, but that was still really sickening and gross though, so Kili tried not to reflect on his blood uncle and his husband’s pet names too often. 

(Kili had been terrified to look up the word “diurnally” for years, afraid it was going to be a sex thing he couldn’t unsee. Dwalin hadn’t let him hear the end of it when the old bastard found out, going on for weeks and weeks about it. Turned out the damn word was just the opposite of “nocturnal”, which might have been obvious to other people, who weren’t skidding by on the skin of their knees in English class.)

The stairs creaked as Uncle Thorin shifted his weight. “If I have to walk down these stairs, you three are dead,” he warned them lowly. 

Uncle Bilbo made a noise of fond exasperation that travelled easily down the stairs. Suddenly there was even more light being cast against the far wall, which probably meant Uncle Thorin had been nudged back to the kitchen bar, where he could slump in a stool and make glowering puppy dog eyes at his husband. 

“Good gracious, you big brute, it’s a wonder you ever get anything done before 11am. Sit down, will you, yes, yes, and don’t you glower at me Thorin Durinson or I will turn off that coffee maker.”

Even from the depths of his embarrassment Kili found the energy to snort quietly at the scolding. As far as Kili knew Bilbo Baggins (actually William Benjamin Baggins, nicknamed Bilbo) had never taken any of his uncle’s crap, not for one second. It was a good thing too, because Uncle Thorin had a great deal of crap that he probably would have stewed in for the rest of his life, making himself terribly miserable if it hadn’t been for his bossy husband. Kili was very, very fond of his Uncle Bilbo and he found himself focusing on the sound of the man’s voice, desperately trying to block out the feeling of Tauriel wriggling around and burying her face more firmly against his back, most likely in protest to the volume and light increase.

“Frodo, lad, would you mind-“

“Yes, uncle,” Frodo (actually Franklin Donald Baggins, nicknamed Frodo because apparently giving children awful names that made them stick out like sore thumbs was a common factor on both sides of the family) said. The little boy then pounded down the stairs and into the dark basement like an invading army. He skidded to a stop just in Kili’s line of sight, right below the light switch for the basement’s florescent lights. Kili scrunched his eyes closed a second before everything beyond his eyelids lit up like the sun itself.

“WAKE UP,” the eight year old menace shouted earnestly. There was no glee in his voice, not like there would have been in Kili’s at his age, but it was still annoying as all hell to be shouted at early in the morning. Fili shot up like he was a puppet on a set of strings, his yelp mingling in the air with the sound of Tauriel’s groaning protests. Uncle Bilbo’s mutters of things like _now was that really necessary_ and _oh well at least they’re awake_ almost drowned out the stream of cursing Uncle Thorin was doing at the sudden noise.

“Oh my god,” Fili moaned. He had fallen back down to the floor almost before Frodo had stopped yelling. “No,” he said, immediately after. “No, stop.”

Frodo ignore him. “Good morning, Fili,” the little boy said happily. “It’s breakfast time.”

“Fing-a-ling-a-ding-dong,” Fili grumbled. There were strict rules in place about swearing around Frodo, otherwise Fili would have had stronger things to say about their wake up call. Frodo tilted his head to one side curiously, but Fili waved him back upstairs without explanation. Frodo turned and marched back upstairs like a solider from the sight of a great victory, leaving the grumbling twenty year old behind to stand slowly to his feet.

Fili reached out for Kili’s shoulder, thinking he was still asleep. Kili wrenched his eyes closed and did his best to keep that lie going, because having the “so you’re in love with my best friend” conversation wasn’t something he wanted to do, ever. He loved Fili, almost more than he loved anyone else in the world, but Tauriel was Fili’s best friend and Kili knew his brother’s limits. 

“Kee,” Fili muttered, shaking his shoulder. Kili felt Tauriel shake atop him as well, meaning Fili also had a hand on her shoulder. “Taur, wake up. Wake up, you two morons.”

Tauriel moaned into his back, sending shivering down his spine and making the hair on the back of his neck stand straight up. He made a noise, something between a squeak and a groan, and then did his best to act like he was just waking up. Tauriel slowly picked herself up into an upright position, though most of her weight was still atop his legs and leant against his side. He sat up slowly, not bothering to pull his legs out from under her, and made a show of rubbing at his eyes.

“What’s going on?” 

“Breakfast,” Fili answered. He ran a hand through his hand and gave them both a small smile. “Probably should have remembered Uncle Bilbo would have us up at the crack of dawn for breakfast when we planned this thing, huh?”

They had spent the entire night playing video games. Tauriel had gotten back from school out north around 6pm and had been at their house since 7. They’d popped in the first game shortly after dinner and had been going strong until at least 2am. Kili didn’t remember much after their GTA death race, but evidently Fili and Tauriel had lasted longer than he had, since the game screen that was currently muted on the television was Minecraft instead. Fili had only been back a few days himself, but Tauriel hadn’t been home since the previous spring. 

“Worth it,” Tauriel moaned out. She reached out her hands, wriggling her fingers at Fili, but Fili had already been reaching for her. He hauled her up so that she was standing, so tall and slim that she looked like a young tree. Even rumbled and sleepy eyed she was still the most gorgeous woman Kili had ever seen. 

Fili reached out a hand and hauled Kili to his feet. All three of them swayed where they stood, elbows knocking into elbows. Tauriel grinned at Fili, Fili grinned at Kili, and Kili grinned at them both, even though he could swear he could still feel the warmth of her breath against the back of his t-shirt. Fili twisted to lead them up and out of the basement, toward the light and the warmth of the kitchen, where the smell of bacon, sausage, and eggs was coming from, but Tauriel lingered for a few seconds. Kili had grown some in the six months since she had been gone, but she still had him by nearly an inch. She had teased him upon seeing him, promising him that he was only 18 and that he would continue to grow for another year at least, but that wasn’t what Kili was focused on at that moment. He was focused on her smile, on the curve of her lips and the sleep muted sparkle in her eyes.

“Sorry for using you as a pillow,” she said with a shrug. His brother’s sweatshirt dwarfed her, the sleeves covering her hands entirely, the neck of the thing gaping open to reveal a slice of her freckled shoulders and collarbones. 

“Anytime, Taur,” he said. His voice was rough, but at least it hadn’t broken in the middle like he was still twelve. Besides, rough voices could be blamed on sleep and as far as anyone seemed to know, Kili had been asleep like the rest of them. Tauriel grinned at him, reaching out to grab at his arm and tug him along after her, using him as a crutch as she stumbled up the stairs. 

He wanted to tell her that he meant it, that he would be her pillow forever if she liked. He wanted to explain that he would follow along after her all the way to the North Pole if she liked, so far away from the rest of humanity that they could study the stars in peace (since she was studying to be an astronomer), but he kept his mouth firmly shut. Right then, in that moment, he simply let himself enjoy the idea that he had the whole of winter break to spend time with her, to stay up all night playing silly video games and listening to her gripe about her courses, her dorm, the café down the street that had decent coffee but terrible muffins. For that one moment he had Tauriel’s hand curled around his wrist and his family’s laughter drifting down the stairs at them, so he could tell himself that he had everything he wanted out of life and everything else that pulled at the edges of his mind was just the leftover feelings of a bad dream.

**Author's Note:**

> this is kind of old. I have a few bits and pieces in this au of mine that I'll be uploading. mostly they bounce around the years and show Thorin and Bilbo being ridiculously in love and Kili and Tauriel falling and all the domestic fluff in between everyone. I hope someone enjoyed!


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